


if She told us a story

by VioletThePorama



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Aziraphale Fell Instead of Crowley (Good Omens), Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Created the Stars (Good Omens), Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Crowley is Raphael, Demon Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gen, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, My take on this dynamic, Reverse Omens, Scene: Garden of Eden (Good Omens), light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:08:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25197481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletThePorama/pseuds/VioletThePorama
Summary: Opposing forces have a conversation. In which a magpie steals a flaming sword, and an angel inspires humanities first folly.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 32





	if She told us a story

A magpie soars up to a wall to join an angel. Said angel is clothed in white with red flowing hair, shoulders taut with some newly discovered emotion. His wings are quite dark and drawn in tightly. The demon halts next to the man-shaped being and forms into his own shape, with fair hair that is closer in shades to bone than blonde. He is draped in blues and the dark colors of the underworld that contrast quite nicely, in his opinion, with his lighter wings. There is the unfortunate blunder with his eyes that he can’t seem to rid himself of, leaving two warped pupils where there should be one. 

The angel turns to him, and the demon takes care to keep his distance from the burning blade at his side, put off by it’s radiant energy. 

“Well,” the magpie says, keeping the angel in his peripherals as he turns to face the open expanse of desert. 

“That one went down like a lead balloon,” the angel responds, stepping half a step away from the demon. Though when no movement is made from his occult half, he settles again. He seems to struggle with his name. “Er... Crowley.”

“Azirafell,” Azirafell offers, though he is considering something less on the nose. He shifts. “Oh.”

“I didn’t mean to,” frets Crowley. He shambles forward a few steps, and nears the edge of the wall before he seems to think better of it and stops again. He shoots the sky a surprisingly scornful look and Azirafell can’t help but feel drawn to the angel because of it. “First offense and everything.”

“You weren’t with Eve when she ate it. It’s a human’s folly,” he points out. “And you’re an angel. Surely you can’t do bad.”

“That’s more your lot’s deal,” the angel agrees, continuing to putter about. “But I gave her the idea.”

“Did you now?”

“I was proposing a lot of questions to them,” Crowley says mournfully. Azirafell feels the faint presence of something that may one day spark into empathy if he isn’t careful. Angels have fallen for less, after all. “The sort about why She’s put a tree out in the open like that in the first place. She told them ‘Don’t Touch’ and nothing else.”

“It isn’t very subtle, I suppose. Could have been the right thing after all, though, couldn’t it? Free will and all that,” Azirafell says. Then he shrugs. “At least the fruit was good.”

The angel Crowley sputters upon seeing Azirafell produce a deep red apple from his cloaks. It’s the truth. The apple is delicious and juicy with knowledge that She never granted. “Is that?”

“It is,” he gives a demonic smirk and takes a bite. “Perhaps it was I who gave Eve the idea. Humans learn from example, don’t they?”

Crowley makes a noise not dissimilar to a gulp. Azirafell is fond of things that come with eating. A pleasant weight in the corporation. A lovely scent rivaling the honey-nectar air of Eden. The noises. 

“It would be rather funny,” Crowley says faintly, once he’s over being tongue-tied. “If we had ended up on the wrong sides somehow.”

The demon takes another bite and casts a glance back at their wings. What a sight they make, with the angels dark feathers, almost brushing against his own cream colored ones. “I think not,” Azirafell responds after a long minute of watching the angel suffer through the silence. “I don’t believe I could get very far as one of your sort.”

“Right,” Crowley steps a tad closer and this time it’s Azirafell who steps back. “Perhaps the apple was the right thing for them after all.”

“Perhaps,” Azirafell sighs. He finishes off the apple and considers chucking it at the angel for a long moment. Then he decides that he’s liking the conversation. There have been very few like it, thus far. Instead he tosses it back over the wall and into Eden. 

They stand in silence for a long moment. Crowley, no longer pacing around like a caged tiger, watches the distance, where the humans have been exiled to. Later, Azirafell will consider whether or not Eden was a cage, and they were simply freed. For the moment, it seems more like they have been left to the wolves, as it were. The blade catches the demon's attention again. Azirafell’s attention has never truly left the blade during this discussion, as he likes to believe that he has at least some self preservation, but this time he gets an idea as he looks at it. 

“Your sword,” he begins, and the angel turns to him. Azirafell’s mouth goes dry for a moment as he watches long red locks blow in the breeze. “Well. It’s on fire.”

“It is,” Crowley agrees, looking at him rather oddly. “It’s flaming like anything, I suppose.”

“They look cold,” Azirafell says, trying not to sound like he’s fretting. Averting his gaze out to the desert, he rubs his hands together, bringing them close to his chest as he tries to play it off like he’s plotting. “And she’s expecting  _ already _ ,” the demon chances a glance at the angel. There’s an incredulous look on his face, so he hurries on. “And those vicious animals-”

“They could use it more than I,” Crowley interrupts his rambling. Azirafell nods. He opens his mouth to continue, but the angel beats him to it, lighting up like something that. Well. Lights up. The comparison has yet to be invented, he supposes. “You could always steal it from me.”

“What,” the demon Azirafell says. 

“My sword. It sure would be a shame if a wiley demon stole it from me. Added it to your ill-gotten treasure or something of the sort.”

“It would be,” the demon agrees. Azirafell freezes then as something occurs to him. “You won’t be punished for it, will you?”

Crowley makes another noise. This one feels more thoughtful than pained. He waves his hand back and forth. “If I’ve gotten this far, I don’t think anything else could happen.”

“You could-” Azirafell rushes. He doesn’t know why he’s concerned but. Well, he just  _ is _ . “Don’t speak that way.”

“You could properly introduce violence to humanity,” the angel suggests, trying to change the topic back to that of the sword. 

“Violence,” Azirafell tests the word on his tongue. Not a new concept. Not for him. “Why care so much?”

“Why do you?” Crowley shoots back. “I’m an angel. I love all living things. Eve down there, carrying their kin. She didn’t… She couldn’t have meant to do this.”

“I’m going to take your sword,” Azirafell decides. 

Then, the angel is very close to him. He’s taller, Crowley is. When he lifts his hand with his fingers curled around the hilt of the blade, Azirafell can see stains of stardust all down the insides of his arms. The demon is frozen for a long moment, looking for other signs of where the angel has been drenched in the creation of space, in his wings and over his fingertips. It is something that lays deeply within the angel. A shine to his eyes that Azirafell can see now. The way he hovers near the demon, moving in and out as if they are caught in each other's gravity. And what a great, overwhelming gravity it is that keeps Azirafell near the angel, ignoring all rational thought. Simply reacting to each other instead of fighting like they should be doing. They stand close, but they don’t touch, opposing forces stuck in a dual orbit. 

Then he is put off by how close the holy blade is, where the terribly hot fire radiates good intent and holiness that makes Azirafell want to flee and crawl back to the depths of hell. The blade has never been used before. It has never burned anything, but the demon can almost taste the choking thickness of ash when he looks at the flames.

Then it’s moved away from him, and the angel looks sheepish. “Er…”

“Give it here,” the demon snaps. He takes the sword like it’s a particularly deadly acid. It might as well be for all that it does to his kind, even though it’s truthfully as pure as they come. He is also very careful not to touch Crowley, feeling somehow that the angel will be contaminated. That the stars in his blood may bubble out if brushed against the scalding heat of Azirafell’s tainted energy.

Crowley grins at the ‘theft’ and Azirafell stops to reconsider the idea of them ending up on the wrong sides. He almost says as much before he catches the look the angel directs at the distant humans, full of love that’s obvious even to someone who can’t sense it. They’re better off where they are. 

The wind blows, and Azirafell holds the sword away from himself. He should be going, but can’t help but stay where he is, watching Crowley watch the exiled members of humanity. 

When the rain comes down, both of them startle. They knew it was coming, of course, but scarce few knew what it actually was up until this point. Even with it’s gentle coolness, it bruises the flowers and the petals and the leaves of Eden. It dampens the hair of the angel, and Azirafell can’t stand how the sight of the galaxies caught up in the long locks are suddenly dampened and diminished.

So Azirafell lifts a wing over Crowley and tries to ignore how the angel's intense gaze shifts from the humans to him.  _ It means nothing _ , he tells himself. And there they stay until it becomes apparent that the humans need their weapon more than Crowley needs him.

**Author's Note:**

> While I took more liberties with it, credit for the AU goes to speremint on tumblr. Or here for their refs https://speremint.tumblr.com/post/186574829700/finally-finally-done-making-these-refs-my
> 
> So I wanted to do my take on their dynamic. I've seen it where people just switched their personalities, but I wanted to try something closer to capturing what they might act like given the circumstances. And I still wanted Crowley to be the one who tempted the humans, even if Azirafell will probably take credit for it. 
> 
> I also just wanted to write a Good Omens fic to get it out of my head. 
> 
> Anyway, I did keep Azirafell's wings white and Crowley's black because I like the idea that the angels had all different types of wings, even before the fall, and it was just nice coincidence that Crowley and Aziraphale ended up on sides that seemed to match their colors.


End file.
